


There's No Use Crying Over Spilled Tabasco

by rire



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Banter, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, spoilers only up to the Mitsuba arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22765465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: Sougo's cough had been getting worse lately.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Okita Sougo, Minor or Background Relationship(s), past Hijikata Toshirou/Okita Mitsuba
Comments: 25
Kudos: 115





	There's No Use Crying Over Spilled Tabasco

**Author's Note:**

> I did way too much research on the actual Shinsengumi, only to throw all historical accuracy out the window. Any similarities to real events or real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental. ;)

Sougo’s cough had been getting worse lately. 

Hijikata figured it was just a common cold at first. Being out on patrol even in the coldest months of winter, it wasn’t abnormal to fall ill from time to time, but that kind of thing could be cured with herbal remedies and a few nights of good rest.

No, this wasn’t it. It’d been two weeks, and Sougo wasn’t getting any better. When he confronted the kid about it, though, he was met with a deadpan expression as Sougo said, “Well, the fact that I’m sick while you’re not only proves how much smarter I am than you. Idiots don’t catch colds.” 

It all came to a head on their most recent mission. They’d been on patrol when they’d spotted a few Joui punks on their hit list loitering about. Not the likes of Katsura Kotaro, but a younger, scrawnier bunch. The group was loitering in front of a newly built love hotel on the edge of Kabukicho. _Ikedaya,_ read the neon sign hanging crookedly above the building. Hijikata hadn’t been to one of these, obviously. As he and Sougo hopped out of his car and trailed after the Joui rebels into the shady establishment, Sougo snickered behind him. 

“How does it feel, Hijikata-san? To know that it’s probably the first and only time you’ll get to be in one of these hotels.” 

Hijikata bristled. He was used to Sougo’s prickly remarks, but it wasn’t common for Sougo to make a jab at his nonexistent love life. Both of them knew all too well the real reason he never took any lovers— the memory of Mitsuba still haunted them both to this day. Sougo must be in quite a mood today. 

“Shut up,” said Hijikata gruffly, hand braced cautiously on the handle of his sword as the two of them tiptoed in. “They’ll hear you.” 

Sure enough, a couple of the Joui rebels had started looking over their shoulders. Panicked, Hijikata looked around for a wall to hide behind, but Sougo only grabbed his hand and _squeezed it_ as he pretended to look through the room selection catalog.

“Ah, this room looks like it’d be perfect for us. Big bed, and look at all these _toys_ ,” said Sougo in a honey-sweet voice that made Hijikata shudder with disgust and maybe something else. Tch. The kid was a natural. Sure enough, the rebels bought the excessively romantic farce, and continued on their way in. 

As soon as they were out of sight, Sougo turned away, letting out a light cough into the back of his fist. Hijikata yanked his hand out of Sougo’s. 

“Yeesh. Don’t get me sick, too.”

“There’s no way I can get you sick,” Sougo tossed back. “Like I said, idiots don’t catch colds.”

They followed the group down a long, shady hallway, past several rooms with plain wooden doors. Taking a sharp right turn, they came across a door that looked different than the rest. Bigger, and plated with steel, boasting no room number and a plaque that said _staff only._ Ah. So the love hotel _was_ a front, then. 

The rebels turned the key in the door, and Hijikata fished his walkie-talkie out of his pocket and said, “Targets sighted. Prepare to make contact.” 

As soon as the rebels entered the room, Hijikata and Sougo followed them in, knocking the three rebels unconscious in a quick flurry. Those guys put up no fight at all, but they weren’t the real problem. 

What greeted them was a room full of at least fifty Joui rebels, nothing like the earlier punks, but battle-hardened warriors that looked like they were starving for a battle— a real battle. Hijikata knew that look in their eyes. 

“Oh? Who do we have here, the Shogun’s lapdogs?” said the tallest rebel, a man with a half-shaved head. Hijikata knew that man— Furutaka Shunjirou. “What a treat. Thanks for coming in here so I could finish you off personally.” 

“We only followed the scent of pigs, that’s all,” said Sougo. “Thank _you_ for leading us here so we could drive a stake through your guts.” 

And with a dashing grin and a murderous glint in his eye, he brandished his sword. 

After that, all hell set loose. Their reinforcements would come later, but for now Hijikata lost himself in the instant gratification of a battle that pushed at the edges of his strength and stamina, that drowned all thought from his mind and forced him to focus on the pull of his muscles, the stance of his feet on the ground, on swinging his arm back to strike a sharp blow across the bellies of three or four enemies at once. With Sougo at his back, these guys would be easy kills— and they might even be able to capture Furutaka alive and interrogate him on what the rebels were planning. 

It should’ve been an easy battle. 

But by the time Yamazaki and the others stormed in— by the time they’d killed the unimportant foot soldiers and left Furutaka tied up and alive— Sougo was breathing heavy, displaying none of the usual sadistic satisfaction he got from a good fight. Sougo doubled over coughing, knees hitting the ground at the same time his sword slipped out of his hand and clattered against the bloodied floor of the hotel.

When Sougo stopped coughing, and removed his hand from his mouth, his hand was red with blood. 

“Oi,” said Hijikata, panic spiking in his blood. “Sougo, are you hurt?” 

He reached out to steady Sougo, but Sougo only smacked his hand away. 

“I’m fine,” he said, voice rough. “They didn’t land a single blow on me.” 

That was true to the naked eye— he was barely scathed. Yet he was breathing heavily all the same, kneeling on the floor and unable to stand.

“Captain!” one of Sougo’s men shouted, rushing to his side and helping him up. It rattled Hijikata a little to see him accept aid so readily from his men while refusing it from Hijikata himself. 

But what rattled Hijikata the most was the rare sight of Sougo, reduced to a coughing mess on the floor. The scarlet red that stained his lips and hands, and the belated realization of just how serious Sougo’s sickness really was. 

* * *

Given how frequent the members got sick and injured, mainly the latter, the Shinsengumi had an in-house doctor. Sougo had waved him off for the first two weeks, but after they’d all caught him coughing his lungs out, he finally obliged and allowed the doctor to check on him. 

Hijikata waited outside of the makeshift hospital inside their quarters, where Sougo was currently undergoing the checkup. The small building was a temporary respite for men whose injuries weren’t severe enough to send them to the Greater Edo hospital, though a subsection of it also operated as a hospice of sorts for men who’d been gravely injured in battle or fallen terminally ill, and preferred to pass with the company of their comrades rather than in a dully white hospital room.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like Okita’s case,” the doctor said to Hijikata as he emerged from Sougo’s room. There was a bewilderment in his eyes even as he tried to remain professional. “This is serious. If it goes on untreated, I fear for his life. I think we’d better refer him to a specialist as soon as possible.” 

Shit. 

Hijikata thanked him for his work, and then proceeded inside. 

“At least knock first,” said Sougo. “Who raised you?”

“Same guy who raised _you,”_ said Hijikata. Sougo’s jabs were getting lazier, he noted; Sougo didn’t usually insult Kondou in the same breath that he insulted Hijikata. 

“So?” Hijikata prodded on, sliding the door shut behind him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” said Sougo. His eyes were unreadable as he flipped nonchalantly through the magazine he was reading. 

Hijikata found himself wishing, not for the first time, that the kid would show some kind of emotion on his face. The three of them always hung out together, but Kondou had always acted as a buffer between them. Like a buy one get one free type of deal— Sougo liked Kondou, so he had to put up with Hijikata. Whatever Sougo was thinking, whenever he was hurting, he’d never once come to Hijikata about it. But that was what he was here for. The Shinsengumi had each other’s backs when they had no one else to turn to, and he’d make damn sure Sougo knew it, even if Sougo resented him for it.

“You should stop fighting on the front lines.” 

Sougo’s head whipped up from the magazine. There was a half-scowl on his face, like he was feeling irritated, but not sure yet whether he should commit to it or pretend he didn’t care what Hijikata said as per usual. 

“Why do you care?” 

Hijikata ran a hand through his hair, trying to tamper down his frustration. “Look, it’s not that I care about you, okay?” That was a lie, but he’d do what it took to get Sougo to listen to him. “Our job is to protect Edo, and if you can’t do that properly, then you should step back for the sake of the people.”

Sougo gave a dry cough into his hand before glaring at Hijikata again. “It’s not interfering with my job. I still took down all those men at Ikedaya, and we captured Furutaka and got the intel we needed.”

Well, actually, they hadn’t. The Shinsengumi had brought Furutaka back to the headquarters as a prisoner, and interrogated him for hours about what he was planning. They’d tried everything, from slowly sinking him into a tub threatening to drown him, all the way to getting Kondou to sing and dance buck naked in front of him. Not a single interrogation tactic had worked. All Furutaka had done was flash a sly smile and say, _you’ll find out soon._

“You got lucky during that fight,” Hijikata countered. “But after this, it’s almost certainly going to affect your performance. I talked to the doctor, and he thinks it’s serious enough that your life might be in danger. We should transfer you to the Greater Edo hospital, at least.” 

“Tch, as if some cough would kill me.” Right as he said that, Sougo’s body shook with another cough. He looked so small, like that. Hijikata always forgot that he was only eighteen. That he’d been with the Shinsengumi since he was a kid, and that he’d never gotten to have a childhood— Hijikata wasn’t going to let him shorten his life even more by being a reckless idiot.

When Sougo’s hand came away, it was covered in red again. His face was ashen pale, and Hijikata felt the colour drain from his own face.

“Sougo. You’re coughing up _blood.”_

“This isn’t blood, Hijikata-san,” Sougo joked, deadpan. “It’s Tabasco sauce.” 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and before he knew it he’d knocked Sougo’s bedside table to the floor, where it lay in a collapsed wooden heap. 

Sougo only stared at him, wide-eyed. In other circumstances, Hijikata might gloat that he had finally gotten Sougo’s mask to crack. 

“Look,” said Hijikata through gritted teeth. “Even if you don’t take your health seriously, _I_ do, alright? I made a promise to Mitsuba. I promised her that I’d take care of you.” 

He said it. It was out there, and there was no taking it back.

Sougo’s eyes only narrowed, muscle twitching in his jaw. The heat of a low anger simmered in his eyes. 

“Oh, yeah? A promise you made in your heart to a dead person is the only reason you’re looking after me, huh? Give me a break. You’re just here to feed your own ego.” 

The words were callous, even colder than most of the things Sougo said, which was saying a lot. Hijikata swallowed through the sudden dryness in his throat. He looked away, down at the mess he’d made in Sougo’s room, and felt his clenched hands tremble at his sides as he said,

“I can’t lose you, too.”

When he looked up, there it was again, that crack in Sougo’s armor. But it only surfaced for a split second before the look on his face hardened, and he said, “Get out of here.” 

Hijikata turned on his heel and left. 

* * *

Despite the fact that he’d given Hijikata the cold shoulder, it appeared that Hijikata’s words had gotten to Sougo after all. Because the next day, Sougo approached Kondou and asked to be escorted around Edo to the city’s best doctors to find some kind of cure. 

He wouldn’t let Hijikata go with him, of course. That kid hated losing to Hijikata more than anything, and that included showing any sort of weakness around him. There was always an itch in the back of Hijikata’s mind to say _I’ve never wanted to be anything but your friend,_ or _let me take care of you just this once._ But people like them didn’t just _say_ those things out loud.

The moon was high in the sky by the time they got back. Sougo’s shoulders were shaking as he tried not to cough, and he went straight to his new room, the place Hijikata tried not to think of as a hospice. 

“So?” Hijikata asked Kondou, out on the veranda. “How is he?”

Kondou leaned back against the sliding door frame. He looked up at the moon, and let out a sigh. 

“We went to four different doctors, but they couldn’t find out what it was. One doctor said he’d seen a couple similar cases that couldn’t be cured either— he called it TB, or something like that. Bottom line is, nobody knows what the hell to do about it. He’s strong, though. I’ve known him long enough to know that much. He’ll get through it.”

Kondou’s blind optimism was always the thing that drew his men to him like planets orbiting the sun, Hijikata included. But right now, Hijikata couldn’t help but be skeptical. He took a long drag of his cigarette and watched the smoke dissipate into the night sky. It wasn’t like he believed in gods or anything, but on the off chance any of them were listening, he prayed that none of the things he held constant would disappear from his life again.

* * *

It’d been quite a while since he was desperate enough to do something like _this,_ Hijikata thought lamely as he stared across the table at a familiar head of silver hair. Sougo would definitely laugh in his face if he knew that Hijikata was here.

“So, let me get this straight,” said Gintoki, finger digging in his ear before flicking the earwax away. “You want me to cure Okita? ...You do know that Odd Jobs doesn’t cover _miracles,_ right? We can take names and kick ass, but even if you paid me a million yen and a lifetime’s supply of strawberry milk, I couldn’t cure a terminal illness.”

He was the only one being characteristically nonchalant about it. Next to him, the glasses kid and the China girl were wearing uncharacteristically crestfallen, solemn expressions. It pissed Hijikata off to no end.

“I wouldn’t be here if I had any other options,” said Hijikata. “You’ve done crazy shit all over Edo, haven’t you? You know people who know people. I’m sure there’s something somebody can do.” 

Gintoki sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know any doctors, but I’ll ask around for you.”

“Great.” Hijikata took out a wad of cash from his pocket and slid it across the table. “This enough for you?” 

Gintoki slid it back to him. “Keep it. I’ll let you know if I find something out. You can pay me then.” 

* * *

He returned to the Shinsengumi headquarters, head full of things he didn’t want to think about. There was only one thing to do when he got like like that. 

Unfortunately, when he got to the dojo, Sougo was already there.

“What are you doing here?” 

Sougo eyed him, gaze calm and level. “Training. Care to join?” 

“You should be resting—”

The wooden practice sword swung at him, fast and with no warning, and Hijikata sidestepped it just in time before Sougo could snap his head off his neck. Goosebumps rose on the back of Hijikata’s neck. Sick or not, Sougo was still lethal as ever.

“Alright, alright, you proved your point. Settle down, jeez.” Hijikata picked up a sword of his own and swung it a few times, warming up, before getting into his fighting stance. “Okay, come at me.” 

Sougo did just that. It took only a few seconds for them to get back into their usual rhythm, parrying and dodging each other like they always did. There was a certain satisfaction to sparring with a skilled swordsman that could not be found anywhere else, and the exhilaration temporarily wiped all other worries from Hijikata’s mind. 

Until he landed a blow that by all means should’ve been avoided. He kept his strikes light and accurate during sparring, so that even if they connected, no real harm would be done— but Sougo stumbled backwards into the wall, collapsing onto the floor with a loud _thud._

“Sougo!” 

Hijikata rushed to his side and saw that he was coughing again. He didn’t bother to cover it up this time, letting the red trail down the side of his mouth. 

One hand braced on his lower back to lift him up, Hijikata wiped the red off with a sleeve. Close up, he could see that Sougo’s face was red, that sweat was sliding down his cheek, the results of more than just physical exertion. He pressed the back of his palm to Sougo’s forehead and cursed under his breath. Sougo’s skin was burning to the touch. A fever, then. “Shit— you’re really hot.”

“I know I am,” said Sougo, “but if you touch me any lower I’m gonna have to start charging.” 

Hijikata flinched and released his hold on Sougo, heat rising to his cheeks. Yep, Sougo was _definitely_ not himself.

Sougo stood up without Hijikata’s help, and dusted off his clothes. Face half hidden by the dark shadows of the dojo walls, he said, “Hijikata-san. If you’re just going to babysit, I’d rather you not train with me at all.” 

Hijikata wanted to argue. But for once, the anger seemed to have evaporated from his body. Sougo’s stance was that of a man set in his ways, and Hijikata knew what it was like to be stubborn all the way down to your bones. Besides, if somebody tried to tell Hijikata that he couldn’t swing a sword again for the foreseeable future, he knew full well he’d kick that person’s ass. 

Maybe it wasn’t about trying to keep Sougo healthy. Maybe— if it had to come down to it, then just maybe— it was about letting him live the rest of his life on his own terms.

“I’ll train with you, alright,” said Hijikata. He stood up, settled into a fighting stance, and raised his sword again. “You’re getting sloppy. Your form could use some work. Maybe I’ll just have to beat it into you.”

Later, he’d look back and realize that was the first time he’d seen Sougo smile in a long while.

* * *

The next day, he got a call from Gintoki. A glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon when he saw Gintoki’s name on the caller display, but it turned out that it wasn’t about Sougo at all.

“Hey, mayo-lover,” Gintoki greeted when Hijikata picked up. “We’ve got a situation over here. Your pet gorilla’s running wild.” 

“...What?” 

“Kondou’s been stalking Otae all day and coughing all over her. I don’t know what he’s got, but I’d hope to God it’s not whatever Okita has. If anything happens to Otae, she’ll kill the gorilla and then all of us.” 

A chill ran down Hijikata’s spine. Kondou was coughing? No, it couldn’t be. Well, no— it was possible. They didn’t know the specifics of Sougo’s illness, so it could very well be contagious. 

“Where are you?” 

“Ah, we’re at her family dojo.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

He took a patrol car, turned on the sirens, and floored it. 

* * *

When he arrived in Otae’s living room, Kondou was coughing blood. 

Heart pounding in his ears, Hijikata ran towards Kondou, and helped Gintoki and Otae prop him up. 

“Toshi,” said Kondou cheerily. “I discovered a new bodily functio— aughgh!” He cut off into a hacking cough, but couldn’t bring his hand up to his mouth in time, and coughed red all over Hijikata’s jacket. 

“Kondou-san!” Hijikata shouted. 

“Wait,” said Gintoki. He dipped a finger into the red liquid staining Hijikata’s jacket. “This consistency… I know it. I recognize it. It’s—” He brought a finger to his mouth, and licked. “It’s Tabasco sauce.” 

… 

…… 

………

 _“Tabasco sauce?”_ Hijikata shouted with such force that he launched Kondou right off his shoulder. Kondou planted himself face-first onto the floor and coughed another puddle of red onto it. 

“Why on earth would he cough up Tabasco sauce?” said Otae, visibly frazzled.

“Beats me. It’s pretty good, though,” said Gintoki. “Try it.” 

Hijikata dipped a finger into the red condiment on his shoulder. He sniffed. Sure enough, it did smell kinda spicy. And delicious. Tentatively, he gave it a lick. Yep, it was hot sauce, alright.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Shinpachi shouted, waving his arms animatedly and gesturing to the TV across from them. “Look at this!” 

Sure enough, the news channel was on. Video clips of people all over Edo coughing up red liquid were being displayed, and Ketsuno Ana was reporting on the situation with a solemn face.

“A new virus called TB has hit the streets of Edo, causing people to develop fevers, and to spontaneously cough up a substance akin to Tabasco sauce!”

“Are you shitting me?” Hijikata exclaimed. “It’s actually Tabasco? The TB stands for _Tabasco?_ Why the hell would you name it something so damn misleading?!” 

“The TB virus,” Ketsuno continued onscreen,“has been carried here by Amanto who were visiting from a far-off planet. It is contagious, but only a certain subset of people can be infected. The doctors say that there is likely no threat to the lives of the infected. There is no medicinal treatment at this time— but there is one cure.”

Hijikata leaned closer to the TV, wide-eyed, as Ketsuno spoke on. 

“The only people who can be infected with this virus are those who have unrequited romantic feelings that they perceive to be unrequited. And the only possible cure is to consummate their love with the object of their affections.” 

Silence stretched out, ominously, across the room.

The news channel changed the topic to an upcoming baseball game. 

Otae grabbed the remote and turned it off. 

“I guess we’re leaving Kondou-san to die, then, aren’t we?” she said with a cold, closed-eyed smile.

“Otae-san,” said Kondou, throwing himself at her feet. “Please, please, please.”

“No.”

 _“Please_ let me sleep with you _just this once.”_

“Not in a million years!” 

But Hijikata’s mind was occupied by something— someone— else.

Hijikata turned to Gintoki. Gintoki was looking at him knowingly. 

“I think we can handle things here,” said Gintoki. “You’d better go check on _him,_ though.”

* * *

Hijikata entered Sougo’s room and found that the bed was empty. Rather, Sougo was on the floor of his room doing pushups, keeping active despite the trash bin next to him filled to the brim with red-stained tissues.

Hijikata leaned over the trash bin and inhaled. Sure enough, the smell was spicy and delicious. 

“I told you it was hot sauce,” said Sougo, pausing in his physical exercise to stand up straight. “You were the one who didn’t believe me.” 

Hijikata sputtered indignantly. “I thought you were just fucking with me! Who the hell coughs up _hot sauce?”_

“It’s pretty good. You want to try? I bet I taste better than Kondou-san.”

 _“No!_ And cut it out with the innuendos already!” 

Sougo fell silent, and started to play with a stray thread on his sleeve. 

“So?” said Hijikata. “Who is it? Your special someone?” 

Sougo looked up, eyes wide with false innocence. “Why would I tell you?”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Hijikata. “You never tell me a damn thing. You’d rather piss me off every chance you get, and turn me down whenever you need any actual help.” 

“I don’t need help,” said Sougo. “Didn’t you watch the news? It’s not life-threatening. At worst, it’s like living with a benign wart in your side. Annoying as hell, but I’ll live with it.”

“Like hell you will! Blood or not, your cough’s only going to get worse. You won’t be able to fight in the Shinsengumi at all if this goes on.”

“Then maybe I’ll start a business bottling up my homemade Tabasco sauce and selling it. Improvise, adapt, overcome.” 

Hijikata grit his teeth. “Didn’t you say you wanted to overthrow me and take my place as Vice-Chief? Are you seriously going to give up on that? Just because you’re too chicken to confess your feelings to some _girl?”_

Sougo was starting to look annoyed for real now. It filled Hijikata with some perverse, vindicated pleasure, as he went on. “I can’t think of anyone unlucky enough to attract the attention of someone like _you._ Probably some fucked-up masochist who likes getting tied up.”

“Shut up.” There was real anger in his voice. That was good. They were finally getting somewhere. 

“Come on, Sougo, out with it. I don’t have a ton of experience with women, but I’m sure even I can offer you some help. If you’re shy, you can write her a letter, or something. Just a quick, _hey, I’m in love with you, let’s have sex—”_

In the blink of an eye Sougo had grabbed Hijikata by the collar, fist so tight his knuckles were white. Caught off guard and breathless, Hijikata could only stare at him, at those brown eyes that shone with anguish, and unspoken pain. Inappropriately, Hijikata thought with half a mind that Sougo, when he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions, was breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Will you _shut up?”_ said Sougo, voice low.

“...I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” 

Sougo grunted and let go of Hijikata’s collar. As soon as he did so, though, he was hit with another fit of coughs, and fell forward against Hijikata’s chest as his body shook with the force of it. Even though he tried to cough into his hand, the red still stained Hijikata’s shirt, anyway. Hijikata rubbed circles in his back, blabbering whatever words came to mind— “hey, it’s alright, you’re alright, I’ve got you.” 

And then Sougo laughed— a small, bitter sound that felt out of place. As he did so, he pulled Hijikata in closer, tighter. Almost like he had wanted to do this all along. Almost like he never wanted to let go. He buried his head in Hijikata’s chest. His shoulders trembled a little, and Hijikata’s breath caught in his throat.

 _Oh._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hijikata wondered when his feelings for Sougo had begun to resemble affection. No— that wasn’t true. He had always loved Sougo. As a rival, as a friend, as a brother. It was only recently that those feelings had taken on the shape of _desire._ Even then, he refused to admit it to himself. Feelings like those were out of place, out of reach.

Or so he’d thought.

“Sougo,” said Hijikata. His voice came out weak. He petted a hand, cautiously, in Sougo’s hair, just to see if he was reading this wrong. He half expected Sougo to smack his hand away, but Sougo only held on tighter. 

“You’re an idiot,” said Sougo. “You’re _such_ an idiot.” 

“I—” Hijikata started, before cutting himself off. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I didn’t think it was possible.” 

Sougo pulled away to glare at him. “Yeah, well, me neither. For the record, I wish it was anyone but you.” 

“Does it bother you that much?” said Hijikata. “Do you really hate me so much that you can’t stand the thought of being with me?”

“It’s ironic,” said Sougo. “Hot sauce was my sister’s favourite food.”

Hijikata froze. It was the first time since _then_ that Sougo had mentioned her. As a rule, men like them didn’t talk about the things that bothered them, preferring to exchange blades rather than words. But in retrospect, it was bound to happen.

“I know,” said Hijikata. He took a breath to try to stop his hands from shaking, as they did sometimes when he thought about her. How she had loved him, and how he had loved her too, more than he thought was possible for a nobody like him. How he had deserted her, in the name of protecting her, only to lose her once and for all.

Deep down, there was a reason Hijikata put up with all of the abuse from Sougo. It was the least he could do. He took away Sougo’s dearest sister. He joined the Shinsengumi and became buddies with Sougo’s closest friend. And he wouldn’t back down from his position of vice-chief. All Sougo wanted, Hijikata held in his hand. It was no wonder that, even if Sougo felt attracted to him, Sougo would never want to be with him.

“I’m sorry,” said Hijikata, his head bowed down. “I’ll say it as many times as you need, and it still won’t be enough, but— I’m sorry.” 

“See?” said Sougo, unimpressed. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re the kind of idiot who shoulders all the guilt on his own without saying anything. If the only reason you watch over me is because you think you owe it to her, then how am I supposed to get you to look at me the way that I want you to?”

Hijikata’s head snapped up in surprise. 

Sougo was looking at him, _really_ looking at him, and only now did he start to realize that maybe, just maybe, all those times Sougo had pissed him off and pushed all of his buttons weren’t driven by hatred or revenge. Rather, it was more like a schoolboy chasing a girl across the playground to pull at her pigtails, because that was easier than saying the words aloud. 

A smile made its way onto Hijikata’s face. 

“Sougo,” he said quietly. “I already do.” 

He curled a hand against the nape of Sougo’s neck, and brought their lips together.

Sougo was still for only a second before he responded eagerly, tipping his head back and allowing Hijikata to deepen the kiss, letting him guide the two of them back until before Hijikata knew it he’d pinned Sougo down onto the bed. Sougo’s body was warm beneath him. He curled a hand in the back of Hijikata’s hair, holding him firmly in place as he licked hotly into Hijikata’s mouth, greedy and a little messy. Hijikata had never allowed himself to think about what it might be like to kiss Sougo, but he certainly hadn’t expected _this—_ something so intimate, raw and real.

They pulled apart to breathe, foreheads still pressed together.

“You taste like hot sauce,” said Hijikata.

“You taste like cigarettes,” said Sougo. “Quit smoking already.”

“I’ll quit smoking if you quit coughing.” 

Sougo shifted meaningfully underneath him, so that the outside of his leg brushed against Hijikata’s inner thigh. “If you want me to quit coughing, you’re going to have to do more than just kiss me.” 

Oh. Right. Hijikata thought back to what he’d heard on the news. “D-do we even know that we need to do _that?_ I mean, _consummate_ could mean anything, you know? We could just lie next to each other on the bed and see how it goes—”

“You’re such a virgin,” said Sougo, pressing a hand to Hijikata’s chest. “Grow a pair and fuck me already.” 

Hijikata _wanted_ to, that was the thing. But this was Sougo, who carried a giant cannon everywhere to blast Hijikata off into the sky whenever he pleased, who chained up girls and kept them on leashes for the hell of it. When Hijikata thought about being on the receiving end of the Shinsengumi’s biggest sadist, his balls felt like they were going to shrivel up and retract back inside of his body. Seppuku would probably be less painful. If it meant saving Sougo, then ultimately he’d do it— but that didn’t mean he was eager to get publicly flogged or whatever Sougo’s definition of kink was.

“No, it’s— well—” Hijikata stammered, breaking out in a cold sweat. “I just don’t know if we’d be… _compatible._ We should draw up a contract first, something like that— is that how it works? You tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you my limits.” 

Sougo let out a long sigh. He was dipping his finger lower and lower on Hijikata’s chest, all the way down to where his yukata was tied. It was very distracting. “I dunno what the hell you’re thinking about, but okay. I want you to fuck me.” 

Hijikata blinked. That was …unexpected. Sougo’s face was tinted red. Probably the fever— or maybe not. His eyes were half-lidded and expectant as he gazed up at Hijikata. His yukata had slipped down his shoulder to expose a pale collarbone, and _hell,_ Hijikata had never wanted anything more. 

“Yeah,” said Hijikata lowly. “I want that, too.” 

“Great,” said Sougo, reverting back to his bossy self in an instant. “Hurry up, then. I don’t have all day.”

Hijikata untied Sougo’s yukata with one quick movement, and stopped to stare as i fell open. They’d seen each other naked countless times, but it was nothing compared to this. He traced the curve of Sougo’s slender, honed muscles with his hands, heart pumping in his chest as his mind raced to catch up with the fact this was _Sougo._

Sougo coughed into his hand. Hijikata wondered if it was to hide the blush creeping up in his face. Up close and personal, Sougo was getting easier to read. “Not that I’m not flattered, but my throat’s burning, so you’d better get on with it. You got any lube?” 

Hijikata fished around in his pocket and took out a plastic bottle, only for Sougo to yank it out of his hand and throw it across the room. The mayonnaise splattered against the wall, its container ruined. 

“Hey!” said Hijikata, mildly offended.

“I’d rather use Tabasco sauce than _that_ abomination.” 

“I just grabbed the wrong one! I wasn’t actually going to use it!”

Sougo fished under the bed and, sure enough, came up with a bottle of lube. 

“...How long has this been here?” 

“Don’t sweat the details, Hijikata-san.” 

In an instant, Sougo rolled them around and pushed Hijikata down against the bed, straddling him. Hijikata felt the breath leave his body as he gazed up at Sougo, yukata hanging precariously off his shoulders, spreading his thighs apart and circling his rim with a lubed-up finger. 

Hijikata tried to say something, but it came out as a choked noise instead. 

“What? You were taking too long, so I decided to do it myself.” 

Trust Sougo to keep a straight face as he worked the first finger into himself. He let out a soft moan and squirmed as he thrust the finger in and out, in and out. Hijikata felt his own cock throb with want. 

Sougo kept going, letting out small, breathy moans as he added a second finger. His head tilted forward, bangs drooping in front of his eyes, and Hijikata reached a hand up to brush them aside. He rested the hand on the curve of Sougo’s cheek, and said, “Let me do it. I want to touch you.” 

Sougo let out a choked noise as Hijikata poured the lube over his own fingers. Bracing a hand against Sougo’s hip, he slipped the other between his legs, and pressed two fingers in, slow and steady. Sougo tightened around Hijikata’s fingers, and Hijikata watched in fascination as Sougo’s cock jumped against his stomach, already leaking precome. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” Hijikata gritted out as he thrust his fingers, picking up the pace. 

Sougo curled his arms behind Hijikata’s neck to steady himself, nails digging into the flesh between Hijikata’s shoulders. “Hurry up and add another one. Then I won’t be.” 

Hijikata grunted. He pressed a third finger to Sougo’s rim, circling it before pushing in. With three fingers inside, Hijikata pushed them in deeper and curled them until Sougo tipped his head forward onto Hijikata’s shoulder and _moaned._

“Yeah?”

“F-fuck,” Sougo gasped, breathless. Hijikata decided he liked him like this, open and vulnerable and at Hijikata’s mercy for once. So he did it again, and again until Sougo’s fingers digging into his back became too much. 

“Fuck me already,” said Sougo, voice wavering, and wasted no time in making that happen— he curled a hand around Hijikata’s cock and gave it a few strokes before sinking down on it, inch by perfect inch.

The feeling of bottoming out was incredible. Sougo was tight and perfect around him, and Hijikata groaned into Sougo’s shoulder, gripping onto his hips to try to regain his bearings. Before he could do so, Sougo had already started lifting his hips and sinking down again.

“Fuck, Sougo,” said Hijikata, thumbing along the junction between Sougo’s thigh and hip. “You feel so _good.”_

Sougo groaned, a half-bitten sound into the back of his fist. He lifted up and sank down again, setting a rhythm that had Hijikata panting for air. The only thing he could do was snap his hips up to meet him halfway, chasing the pleasure mindlessly, as he ran his hands over Sougo’s body, still suspended in disbelief that it was really happening. 

As the pleasure coiled in the pit of Hijikata’s stomach, Sougo picked up the pace erratically, and Hijikata could tell he was close. He wrapped a hand around Sougo’s cock and stroked, thumbing across the head. He pressed his mouth to the pale column of Sougo’s neck, and left open-mouthed kisses there, mumbled noises— “you’re so good, _fuck,_ wanted this so much, you’re perfect—” all of the things that had lain dormant, and saying them felt like a revelation.

Sougo came hard, all over his own stomach, with a cry. His cheeks were red, eyes half-closed in pleasure as he breathed hard and tried to come down from his high. Spurred on by the sight pf it, Hijikata thrust into him a few more times before he came, too, with a muffled shout into Sougo’s shoulder. 

They stayed still for a while, breathing together and feeling the surroundings swim back into place. The bedsheets were soaked with sweat, and Sougo’s bangs were matted to his forehead, and there was come on his stomach. Absentmindedly, Hijikata swiped a finger through it and brought it to his mouth, licking his finger clean.

“It’s not mayonnaise, y’know,” said Sougo.

Hijikata flushed. “Shut up! I wasn’t thinking that!” 

“Whatever.” 

Sougo climbed off of him and flopped down next to him on the bed. Despite his nonchalant attitude, Hijikata could see that he was tired from the way his limbs were motionless and sunken in to the mattress. The sickness must’ve taken a toll on him, after all. 

Hijikata reached out and pressed a hand to Sougo’s chest. “How’re you feeling?” 

Sougo covered his mouth and gave a quick cough to test the waters. When he removed his hand, there was nothing on it. 

“Looks like I’m cured,” said Sougo. 

Relief washed over him like a wave. Hijikata heaved a long sigh and threw his head back against the pillow. Sougo was back. Sougo was safe. Whatever the repercussions of what they’d done, that was what mattered.

“You know, for a second, I almost thought I’d get to see her.” 

Hijikata looked over at Sougo, whose eyes were glassy with emotion. So he was talking about Mitsuba, then.

“I wouldn’t have minded. Dying, I mean. But there were a couple of people I didn’t want to leave behind.” 

“Yeah,” said Hijikata. “I know exactly what you mean.” 

He exhaled, and watched Sougo’s chest rise and fall. All that they’d been through, only to end up here. 

“Do you still think about her?” Sougo asked. “When you look at me?”

Hijikata didn’t think he’d ever heard Sougo sound so _unsure._ In that moment, he knew what Sougo was asking. Sougo’s eyes were solemn, pretty mouth held taut in a straight line. Between that soft brown hair and red-tinted eyes, it was true that they bore some similarities. But the past was the past. He wasn’t thinking of Mitsuba when he watched the way Sougo swung a sword, sharp and precise. The gleeful glint in his eyes as he cut down men twice his size. When they fought a fight that seemed impossible, outnumbered twenty-to-one with Sougo at his back, and came out victorious, Hijikata could think of no one else he wanted at his side. No one else could light a fire in him quite the same way.

“No,” said Hijikata with finality. “I don’t.” 

“Okay,” said Sougo. He shifted in closer, sliding a hand up Hijikata’s back and burrowing his head in Hijikata’s chest. Hijikata had stumbled upon a number of constants in his life, only to have them slip through his fingers like quicksand. But some had stayed. The Shinsengumi was still standing. The Odd Jobs folks were going nowhere. And this? He’d do everything in his power to make sure this lasted, too.

“I still hate you, you know,” said Sougo, voice muffled against his skin.

“Yeah,” said Hijikata, stroking a hand slowly through Sougo’s hair. “I know.”

* * *

When the morning sun filtered in through the window, forcing Hijikata to crack an eye open, Sougo was still there, nestled under his arm like he was meant to fit there. 

* * *

Hijikata paid Furutaka another visit, though he was starting to think keeping him prisoner was pointless. They still couldn’t figure out what Furutaka was planning, and there had been no organized attacks from the Joui or attempts on the Shinsengumi’s lives. Maybe capturing Furutaka was considered cutting the head off the serpent, and the rest of the minions had scattered away, afraid.

Standing across from Furutaka’s prison cell, Hijikata crossed his arms and prepared to speak. But Furutaka spoke first.

“I take it the virus has already taken effect?” 

Hijikata’s jaw dropped. His cigarette fell to the floor and extinguished itself. “That was _you?_ You _planned_ that?” 

Furutaka laughed, a feral glare in his eyes. “Yes, of course I did! The Ikedaya love hotel was a front for the laboratories where we developed the TB virus. We knew you were following us, and we figured it would be a quick and easy way to get the Shinsengumi’s two strongest fighters infected. Take you all down from the inside! So tell me. How many of your men have died at the hands of my brilliant scheme?” 

“None,” said Hijikata. “Do you even know what kind of virus you made?”

“... I did a black market deal with some Amanto. They said it was a deadly disease that would lead to fevers, coughing up blood and ultimately death.” 

“Yeah, no,” said Hijikata. “That’s not exactly what happened. Anyways, thanks for confessing to your crimes, dumbass. At least now I know you weren’t some pervert who was trying to get us all to fuck like rabbits.”

“What?!”

Hijikata sighed as he lit up another cigarette and took a drag. “Never mind. Just forget it. All’s well that ends well, or something like that. You… kind of ended up doing me a favour, so I’ll spare your life just this once. But you’re banned from contact with anyone connected to the Joui for the rest of your life. Got it?”

With that, he walked out of the prison cell and down the hall. 

On his way, he passed by Yamazaki. 

“Vice-Chief,” said Yamazaki, “you’re whistling. What’s gotten you into such a good mood?”

“You’re hearing things, Yamazaki. You should get your ears checked.”

* * *

The next order of business was to call up Gintoki to tell him he didn’t need his help, for Sougo had been cured. But when he dialed the number, an unexpected person picked up on the other end.

“Hey, Toshi!” said Kondou’s cheerful voice, much too loud for this early in the morning. There’s the sound of bedsheets rustling on the other end. “Guess what, I’m cured!” 

“Great,” said Hijikata, though he feels more dread than relief. “You didn’t do anything to Otae that she didn’t want, right? I know you’re the chief of police, but I _will_ arrest you.” 

“Oh, no, of course not! Actually, I’m with someone else right now. Say hi to Toshi, Gin-chan!” 

_Gin-chan._

“Mrghh,” comes Gintoki’s muffled, half-asleep voice from the other end. 

“Gin-chan’s not a morning person,” said Kondou, peppy as ever. “But it’s thanks to him that I realized, all those times I was stalking Otae-san, I was actually vying for the attention of someone else who was close by! And when he took care of me when I was sick, I found out what an amazing lover he would be—” 

Hijikata hung up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always much appreciated! <3 
> 
> You can also find me on Twitter [@redbeantofu](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu).


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